There was also the obvious question of why she had run to Julius Thorne and not the viscount to whom she was betrothed. If asked this by Mr. Barrow, she could always say she was running to Adela and forgot that her best friend and Ambrose were away. Was this not plausible? Certainly less eyebrow raising than admitting she had been thinking of Julius and wanted to be in his arms.
He was big and comforting as he sat beside her.
But he now rose and gave his chair to Mr. Barrow. “Here. I’ll step back while you ask your questions.”
“All right, my lord.” The Bow Street runner settled in the vacated chair and wasted no time in beginning his interrogation. “Lady Gregoria, just let me know if these questions are too upsetting and I shall stop the interview.”
“No, Mr. Barrow. This is important. I only hope I can remember something useful.”
He had to repeat the first question because her attention immediately strayed to Julius as she watched him escort Dr. Farthingale out of the room.
It upset her that he had walked out of her sight. She thought of him as her bedrock and needed his strong, steady presence beside her.
Oh, she was brash and stubborn when it came to making a place for herself in the field of forensic medicine. But she turned into an utter peahen whenever she was around this Thorne brother.
She cleared her throat. “My apologies, Mr. Barrow. Could you repeat the question?”
“Of course,” he said with a kindly nod and gracious smile. “You mentioned to Lord Thorne that you were in your bedchamber and heard raised voices coming from your uncle’s study. This is why you were drawn downstairs.”
She nodded.
“I would like to know if you recognized who was speaking to your uncle? Did the voice sound familiar to you at all?”
She closed her eyes and tried to think back, for the knowledge was right there at the edges. “I…no, it was too indistinct. Well, indistinct in my memory for now. But I might have recognized it. Something about the voice felt familiar.” She groaned. “I just don’t know.”
“Let it stew a while. You cannot force these things. Your memory will return in its own good time. Can you tell me anything at all about the person speaking? Was it a male voice, do you think?”
Gory tried again and frowned, for this was turning into an exercise in frustration. “Oh, dear. I cannot. Perhaps it was too muffled to make out. But I do recall my uncle exchanging heated words with whoever was in the room. And yet, I do not think he was calling out for help.”
“That is important. He could have been angry but did not feel threatened.”
She sighed. “Or maybe he was threatened and too afraid to speak up. And maybe I am not remembering the incident correctly at all. What I do know is that something alarmed me and drew me down to the study. It is the feeling something was wrong that I remember. Is it not odd?”
“Not at all, Lady Gregoria. I think feelings run deeper than mere observations. This is why they remain with us while we sometimes forget what it was that stirred them. Do you recall what your uncle was saying as he faced his assailant?”
“No. I only recall that sense of danger.” She swallowed, for her throat was feeling quite parched. “Oh, Mr. Barrow. I fear I am being of no help.”
“It will come back to you in time, my lady. You mustn’t put this additional strain on yourself. You are fortunate to be alive. Which leads me to my next question…you were in your wedding gown. Why?”
She sighed. “I do not know. In truth, I do not recall having put it on. It is ruined now.”
He nodded. “Lord Thorne showed it to me. I am so very sorry.”
She ought to have been sorry, too.
In truth, she wasn’t.
Of course, it was a shame the beautiful fabric had been ruined. But the damage also signified a step toward her freedom.
Was this not awful of her to think so?
Obviously, she was not thinking clearly at all. Allendale would never agree to call off the wedding because of a ruined bridal gown. Of course, the matter of her uncle turning up dead would give him cause.
“Lady Gregoria,” Mr. Barrow said, regaining her attention with the sound of his gravelly voice, “were you aware of any problems your uncle might have been having with any of his business associates?”
“There were constant problems. Many of them were as oily as he was, so I expect they were always trying to cheat each other. Until last night, he always seemed able to talk his way out of a situation once his dishonesty was found out. But he was not always up to no good in his ventures. Some appeared to be legitimate.”
“What makes you think so?” Mr. Barrow asked.
